Chapter 22: Replacements"How did we do, Fred?" Captain Karl asked as he fired a few parting rounds at the retreating Zeon MS. Before Fred could respond one of his shots struck true, and an unfortunate Rick Dom went down in flames. "We've lost two guys from the Gloucester, and the Anzio's squad leader is dead. The rest of the defense force did scarcely better. We're down to eleven Sabre Fish and one GM. The other GM and the rest of the Balls are dead. And Sir..." "Alright, what about us?" he asked grimly. "Eric's dead. Maurice is wounded too. Max is bringing her in," Fred replied in a quiet tone. Eric was just a new member, but he had been a good kid. Captain Karl simply nodded. He wasn't surprised. Eric and the other GM teams did not have the same experience as the 44th had, and so it had been more likely that they would end up as casualties, even if their GMs had been programmed with combat data gathered by the Gundam. But it was still a horrible waste. "Do you think they'll be back, Sir?" Juan asked worriedly. "I'm not sure, Rifle, see anything?" Karl inquired. Max's GM had the best optics, after all. "They're digging in," Max reported coolly, "They're probably waiting for reinforcements before trying again. We did take out a lot of their MS."
"Yes, looks like it," Karl concurred, "But be on your guard. The rest of the fleet is still half an hour away." "Ouch, it was that close?" Mike asked as he observed the damage on his Rick Dom. "Yeah, looks like it," Ming replied as he looked in amazement how close it had been. The beam had missed the reactor by barely a whisker. It was so close that the reactor's outer shell had been blackened by the heat of the beam. Damn the Feds, how could they have developed compact beam weapons ahead of us? He wondered.
"At least I'm still here," Mike replied in a slightly cheeful tone. Eight Zakus and three Rick Doms had not returned from the last battle, and though it wasn't something to be cheeful about, surviving a close shave like this was. Especially when it was THAT close... Maurice moaned as she opened her eyes. Her head still hurt, an after effect of the concussion, but she immediately felt a hand holding her forehead. She smiled, it was Max. "You have a light concussion," he said as he felt a bump on her head, "But it won't be enough to keep you from flying. They still have to fix up your Light Armor though." "How's my MS," Maurice asked, almost regretful that the moment couldn't last any longer,"How bad?" "The big thing is the arm, that'll take some time to replace, but you should be back by the end of the day." "End of the day..." Maurice started, "****! Wait a minute... what about..." "The Zeeks are holding back for the moment," Max replied, "You've been out quite a while you know. The Spruance has already arrived, and they'll be finished docking soon." "Oh... damn, sorry," she replied.
"No worries, get some rest. We don't know when the Zeeks will be coming back." "Who didn't make it?" Sylvie asked worriedly as she met Fred in the dock. "Sharps, Nigel, Willis, Grant and..." Fred reported before pausing. "Who?!" Sylvie demanded. "Eric, Eric's dead." "Ho... How?" Sylvie asked, partly relieved, mostly shocked. "His bunker got hit by Zeon beams. He got out, but his thrusters got shot. The second volley killed him..." Fred reported solemnly. "Anybody else hurt?" Sylvie asked quietly, her voice still shaking. "Maurice took a bump on the head, but she'll be okay. Max is wacthing out for her."
Sylvie simply nodded before turning away. Damn it, why do so many people have to die in this stupid war?! She thought angrily. But the answer never came. It never did. "Want me to help you?" John asked as he joined Juan in Eric's room. Juan nodded, deathly quiet as he went about the job of gathering Eric's personal belongings. He had been there when it happened, and this was the second time... "Look Juan, Fred filled me in, you couldn't have..." "I've been told that hundreds of times, and personally I'm sick of it!" Juan replied angrily, "Damn it, if I'd been a little faster..." "You'd be space dust, too," he replied matter-of-factly. Juan looked as if he was going to punch John already, before stopping himself and saying, "What about his family then?! How can I explain to them..." "All you could tell them is that he did his duty, and died bravely. That's all, because that's the truth," John replied firmly, "He's dead now, and you can't bring him back, and it wasn't your fault. All you can do now is to keep on living, and hope for the best." "How the hell could you put aside your feelings like that?" Juan asked, still mad but his temper was subsiding. "I don't," John replied honestly, "I'm like a bamboo tree. I bend over to the wind when it gets too strong, but I do it gently so I don't snap. That's why I act weird all the time I guess... it's my outlet." "I don't think I could be like that," Juan replied. "You don't have to. Each person has a different way of coping. But in a war, you have to learn it pretty quickly," John explained. "How about you? How did you learn to cope?"
John merely shrugged, but it was a lie. He knew exactly how he became the man he was today...
January 22, UC 0069 - "Mommy, please hold on... I'm sure Daddy will be back soon. He always does, doesn't he? Then you could be happy again..." little Cynthia Patterson begged her now dying mother, Patricia von Bock Patterson. "Oh Cynthia... I want to... I really want to..." Patricia told her only child as she lovingly held her hand while she lay in a hospital bed. Medicine had improved a lot, but there were still some diseases that science could still not beat. Even with a strong spirit like hers. "Then hold on! I'm sure he'll be back!" Cynthia repeated as she climbed onto the bed and hugged her mother tightly, sobbing as she did so. Patricia simply sighed as tears began to roll down her cheeks. She knew Sean was on his way, but he was still in space and it would take too long. She hoped that the war the Federation was preparing for would never come... that her brother and husband wouldn't face each other in the battlefield, but now, she knew that she'd never live to see if that would happen. "Cynthia... I need you to promise me..." "No mommy, no..." Cynthia begged. "I want to you to tell you Daddy, that I wanted to wait for him... that I really wanted to see him... one last time. But it's alright, it's alright... it was just...just so perfect when he's around... Please tell him that..." "Mommy..." Cynthia barely said, her face now covered with tears. "Cynthia... please, please promise me that." Cynthia nodded, but even more tears rolled down her cheeks. "Don't worry... even if I'm gone... you'd still have Daddy... and John... right John?" she said as she looked straight at the window. Sure enough, John was there, trying hard not to be seen but wanting to make sure that Cynthia would be alright. It was also just too bad she would never see those two grow up together... she thought, the two had really been a pair... both shy and reclusive... John sighed as he allowed himself to be seen. He knew this was wrong, he knew this was supposed to be a time only for the Patterson family, but Cynthia...she was his best friend, wasn't she? He quickly rubbed a few tears from his eyes. He knew the feeling... and now Cynthia... But no words could comfort a daughter about to lose her mother. And Cynthia weeped on, barely noticing he was there. Then Patricia gently took her daughter and held her in her arms. She had grown so much since she was a baby... I wish I could see her grow up, but now... she thought, as she began to sing. It was an old lullaby she had always sung when her daughter was crying... and one that was always able to comfort her... Cynthia, looked straight at her mother's eyes as she heard her begin to sing, before hugging her tightly again and began to sing as well... adding her own voice to the mournful tune. John simply looked on, and kept wiping away the tears as they came. He turned away. It was too much now. But he still couldn't stop crying. You're ten now... he told himself. You shouldn't be a crybaby anymore... but it was impossible. His own father had died the same way, telling him as he died that all he ever wanted was to be a good father to him. Now Cynthia was going to have to go through the same... The two of them kept singing on for what seemed like forever. Then one voice stopped, leaving only one young child's grieving voice behind. Then that voice stopped as well, replaced only by the sounds of footsteps running away. He sighed. He knew where Cynthia was going. But it wasn't his place, it wasn't his... But he needed to go, didn't he? He realized. She was HIS friend. The only friend he truly trusted, and now she was going through the same thing as he had. The least he could do, was to make sure she wasn't alone. He ran, even as rain began to fall. He ran all the way until he reached the spot, an old mango tree were Cynthia had used to play with her mother. She was there, soaking wet, and crying alone by herself under the tree. Singing the same lullaby her mother had sung to her so long ago... John walked close to her and began singing the same tune as well. She turned and looked straight at him, her eyes filled with sorrow and grief. John then sat beside her and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, and began to look at him with a mixture of guilt and gratitude, wanting to ask... "Cynthia, I know what you're going through, and I'm here for you... I'll always will," John told her firmly, and she nodded, "Now let's get out of here before we both get sick," he continued as he stood up.
As if on cue, the rain suddenly stopped, and Cynthia stood up beside him. She was still weeping, but at least now she knew she wasn't alone anymore. And, John also realized, so was he. And after that, John thought, the two of them were never the same. Both of them had been classmates by an interesting quirk of fate, he having been enrolled two years late due to money problems while she had been advanced one grade due to her high Kindergarten scores. Due to their ages they both got picked on by their classmates, and as a result they became good, albeit shy friends. Not after that incident though. After that, they'd remained friends, but never quite that close. Instead, both of them had begun to develop their talents, becoming outgoing and hardworking, and more often than not competing against each other. In the end they both finished high school at the top of the class. But he guessed what they shared that rainy January day had already been etched in both of their hearts... only to show up again the day he was about to leave for Hawaii... "John, that's the last of it," Juan reported as he finished packing Eric's belongings into a box. He took a long hard stare at it, before sighing and closing it. "You feel better now?" It was hard to say good bye, but afterwards... "Yeah, thanks John." "No problem, been helping people with their problems since I was a kid. It's always nice to see them get over it."
"Have I?" Juan asked, as he left the room, carrying the box with him. John pondered on what he had done so many years before. Maybe he shouldn't have put his nose where it hadn't belonged, but he knew had done the right thing. The problem was, it wasn't always applicable to everybody. Unfortunately, he thought as she began to walk towards him, Sylvie was one of those people. Sylvie gave him a cold, hard stare before shouting, "Damn it John! Why the hell did you suggest that to the Colonel anyway!? Four of our pilots are dead, and Eric..." "I know!" he shot back angrily, "But how many more WOULD be dead if they weren't there?" Sylvie looked at him angrily. He was right, but to her it was a cold thing to do. Maybe she was wrong about him. Maybe the kindness she thought existed in his face was just an illusion, but then... "Look, you care very deeply about somebody in the team don't you? That's why you're mad." Sylvie frowned. Was she that obvious? "No," the lie rolled off her lips. "B***," John replied coldly. "Who are YOU to know anyway?!" "Well, I guess you haven't read this, have you?" John asked as he gave her a sheet of paper. Sylvie quickly browsed through the sheet. It was, she realized, another reassignment order. She was being reassigned to pilot the GM Trainer, which was now being modified for the EWAC role. That struck her as odd. Who the hell recommended her to be a pilot anyway?! she realized. She had taken some lessons, and made some inquiries before the war but nobody had really known about it except Max and... OH ****, then Colonel Dolvich. "Are you a pilot or not?" John asked. "I barely started trying it out when the war started, and never on a mobile suit. What's this got to do with you anyway?" "The EWAC GM Trainer is a two seater. I'm going to be the GM's Electronic Warfare Officer. Life sucks, and it'll even be worse if you go crazy on me while we're flying," he concluded. Sylvie looked at him and frowned. No way was she going to tell him anything, "I already told you, it's nothing, and don't worry, I think I did pretty well in the simulator... I hope." "You hope..." John replied doubtfully. "I mean I'm not so sure..." she admitted. Oh **** what have I gotten myself into?
John sighed. That was one of the problems they hadn't anticipated. The fleet had a GM Trainer on board for repair duties, but no certified pilot. The closest thing they had to that was Sylvie. Of all the people... he thought. He really didn't want to let Cynthia down, but if this goes on...
Another letter from John and Dad, Cynthia thought. Both had been very punctual with their letter sending, but their words, precious to her as they were, were still only a small comfort to her. Not with a war this bloody going on. Colonel Patterson wondered if Cynthia had recieved his letter. He'd learned the hardway that he should keep his promises, and going to the then barely completed Luna Two to check out the space fleet had cost him his last chance to see Patricia. But what had suprised him then was how Cynthia had reacted. She had grown strong back then, telling him exactly what her mother's last wish was without shedding a tear while he himself did. She even sang the family lullaby to him, trying to comfort him... he shook his head as he realized his incredible luck, and wondered what John had done at that time. His wistful thought was soon replaced by a worried one. John was now being assigned to a mobile suit. He could have chosen somebody else, but he was the best choice. Unfortuantely, now he was being put at greater risk, and he wasn't sure how his daughter would react to his death. He couldn't let her lose another one, could he? "Sir, I see'm! I've spotted the Amerigo!" a lookout reported. In any case, he thought, at least we won't be so outnumbered anymore.
Notice: This story and all related material is copyrighted by Thomas E. "Zinegata" Ting, no part of this story may be taken by any other person. If you wish to use any material, please contact me first. Gundam and all related trademarks are owned by their respective companies. |
